OUTPOST--now Chapter Four!!!

OUTPOST, Chapter 4
By Julian Phillips
From the story by Tom Luong/Tom Luong Films
Oct. 19, 2009

“A trip to Mars was a fantasy, a mere dream, a muse or complete fiction, for thousands of years, or even much longer, here on Earth. Nothing or next-to-nothing was known, and the idea would be such as credited to the mad or lunatics, or sinister wizards. And of course, it’s still much the same, with the only exception being that now we are actually doing it.”
--Lynn Rodgers-Smith, 2075, US Space-Program Mars Mission Commander, overheard at a luncheon speech

The Japanese rocket-fuel merchants included a posse of about ten Asian men and women, whose services were essential to the Mars program for the US. These were mature science-industry business-people, really not very involved in the global space program, as far as any personal flights or adventures in orbit or beyond. Their education and background made them invaluable participants, however, and as a result they were always invited to the conferences, meetings, seminars, speeches, and governance-boards, for the US program, over many years. They had industrial sources and connections for ready supplies of numerous types of fuel, in particular refined hydrogen, hard to acquire in the amounts, volume, type and purity needed. Launch fuel was different than deep-space fuel, and so on. Their work was under-appreciated and controversial among environmentalist, because of the toxicity of some of the fuels, but it made them very wealthy anyway, and their visits to places like the Vandenberg Space-Port were well-financed, as well as their US lobbyists.

All ten Japanese men and women wandered across the Vandenberg base, about a week after Rodgers-Smith had met with Willy Atta-Bowman, concerning the conference-meeting about the Mars program. They all had badges and passes, and were not noticed as being unusual or out-of-place, mostly between the ages of 30 and 60 years-old, dressed variously in modern or somewhat geeky outfits. The Conference-Hall was a large auditorium, on the South side base, surrounded by grassy lawns, walkways, minor security, electronic displays with information and deluxe-pixelated 3D images, and people entering, or hanging about talking. It was about 3 p.m. in the afternoon, somewhat overcast with watery gray clouds, and a bit of a chill.

Kick Berle, the Fleet Commander, found himself waiting just outside the hall entrance, with his Secretary, as the Asian fuel-supply delegation passed by, chatting amongst themselves in Japanese. One man recognized him, and stopped briefly to greet him with only a smile, bowing slightly as was the Japanese custom even to that day in 2075. Berle smiled back at him broadly and shook his hand, American-style. They laughed, then the man moved off with his group into the building.

“I was just joking about the hot-dogs,” Berle said to his secretary, a bright young woman who had all his notes and books for the conference in a bag. “They eat much better than that, let me assure you. US hot-dogs are not very healthy. They like fish, and raw vegetables.”

“I kinda’ figured, Commander Berle,” his assistant said.

“But they do go for the Mars rocks. They really do,” he added. She smiled, and they also went inside to find their seats for the meeting.

The conference-meeting was organized to efficiently inform about 300 people about details and information, related to the topic, which was posted overhead on a large banner, in the front, and elsewhere around the large room, and on stationary and press-releases, reading: MARS-MISSION UPDATE CONFERENCE, SPRING 2075-‘THE CHALLENGE OF ASTEROID-U2753b’.

At the front of the hall, there was a panel-discussion style set of two long tables, and a podium-table in the center. On either side were an array of computers and projection-gear, and behind were two very large image-screens, and a sound-system. In all, about eight ‘experts’ were seated at the tables, or just settling into their seats as the room quieted down. Each had name-plaques, their own laptops, assistants, and so on. Before them, the hall was filled with chairs, like any large assembly, numbering about 300, and now filling up with guests. Doorways in the back were still allowing people to enter and find their seats. The room was lighted, and other tables had documentation-material, and food-snacks, coffee, tea. The 300 guests included anyone the program leadership felt needed to be informed about Asteroid-U2753b. Pilots, commanders, crew, support tech-staff, engineers, Earth navigation plotters and also in-flight navigators, life-support crews, and also staff and crew from the Molinari Deep-space Dock. Every other sort who was directly involved in the program was in attendance, which was mandatory.

Despite Cargo-Crew Commander Okman’s slow pace at settling the final decision on transport-pilot Guy Reisling’s ‘grounding’ or flight-ready status, Guy and his entire crew were at the meeting, with a row of seats just for themselves. Each crew for each of about 20 other active Mars space-ships also had a row of seats. Karen Tutturro, Branson Porter, Ibrahim Mehudi, and many other un-named and unknown heroes of the program, were seated here and there, with their own guests and assistants or helpers and crews or seconds. Within about twenty minutes of chatter and blustering around, all 300 people quieted down. The program and topics were introduced by a Moderator, and each panel-expert was introduced as well, which took another half-hour.

“Pretty boring so far,” Guy whispered to Rob Cowan, his Second Pilot, seated next to him.

“Boring is good,” Cowan said. “If it’s anything really dramatic, we’re all sure to suffer.”

The so-called Queen of the Galaxy, Commander Rodgers-Smith, took the speaker’s podium, after everyone was introduced. Light applause greeted her for a short moment, and a few good-natured hoots.

“Thank you, people, thank you,” she said. Her voice echoed into the hall over the sound-system. “I think we’re ready for the meat-and-bones of this meeting, and I know many of you are very curious about what’s going on. As we get started, be advised that this meeting is rather serious, and no simple matter at all. With Asteroid U2753b, the Mars Program is facing an unprecedented challenge, with vast consequences. It’s not just our program. It’s not just us. This is truly a global issue, although still ten years away from any real harm. But I’ll leave that to the experts to explain. Nevertheless, as your program head-honcho and Mars program bureaucratic guru, please be alert. This is a very serious matter.”

Now the room was quiet, a hush.

“Let me introduce Doctor Willy Atta-Bowman, Ph.D., from the University of Berkeley,” she said. Bowman, who had already been introduced once, now rose from his seat at the long panel-discussion tables, and took the speaker’s podium. Rodgers-Smith shook his hand and sat down quickly.

Bowman waved his hand at the operator of a computer-projection system. The large screens behind him came to life, with a huge image showing a navigation map of the Earth’s Sun (Sol), it’s relation to the Earth, and aspects in between (Mercury, Venus, and other). Distances and planetary orbit paths were also indicated.

“Hello, Mars program,” Bowman started. “I’m Doctor Bowman, and I think my background has already been sufficiently presented. I’m a planetary-science specialist at UC Berkeley, for the past 15 years, basically. For tonight, I’m the Explainer-in-Chief. So, hope you like my style, I guess.”

He paused, a bit nervous. “Okay. So, it’s really no mystery, is it? U2753b has been tracked now for many moons---even years. Who knows where these large rocks come from, I guess the Big Bang. Earth hasn’t been hit by a very large meteor in thousands if not millions of years. Hollywood gets a lot of mileage out of this kind of thing, and we’ve all seen those old movies and read those books. Great stories, right? As we know, the space-program has been tracking large meteors and asteroids for more than 20 years, for obvious reasons. And we do get them, ranging in size from a few feet long, to much larger, maybe the size of a Chevy truck, or a school-bus. The chances of Earth being hit by one of these is, pardon the expression, astronomical. But if they’re headed our way, the space-program wants to know, so they are tracked from the first day they’re identified, usually by private hobby-astronomers around the world who do their star-gazing for fun, many of them quite advanced in their skills and science.”

He paused again, taking a sip from a water-glass and clearing his throat. “So, okay, you get the idea,” he started again, speaking into the sound system. The audience was molting before his eyes, like a mist of hopeful faces and eyes, trying to understand. But many already knew, and the prospects caused them to lower their gaze or look away. “The research is not bull-shit. Many of you are very advanced in the sciences. Feel free to go over the documentation and proofs, which are available, and have just been released as complete reports. Bottom line, this asteroid is too large to ignore, and the projected paths of both the planet and the meteor, are indeed sobering.”

Now an image flashed onto the second screen behind him at the front of the hall---an actual Hubble telescope-type image of the asteroid they were discussing. Dark, gray, potted with craggy peaks and valleys---a rock.

“It’s one of those scary science-fiction type deals, I guess,” Bowman told the audience. “U2753b is about the size of the state of Virginia, or larger. A hit anywhere on planet Earth would almost without a doubt have devastating, Extinction-Level results. But---it could miss, or it could be diverted, and really it’s not a problem for the Mars program, in terms of avoiding a collision. That is not our mission, and not our arena, and we probably wouldn’t be involved. Other international space-forces will try to stop the hit, and this could be done in different ways---blah-blah-blah, just like the movies, I guess. Also, don’t start making plans for your own funeral. The asteroid won’t even be near our world for at least another six years. I think Commander Rodgers-Smith said ten years, a moment ago. It’s a long ways off, and it’s slow, and somewhat unpredictable. For a local-space region meteor, this one is a monster. It’s huge. So, what we’re talking about today, is how the Mars Program, and the base on Mars, will be affected, and how our program will respond, and other difficulties and challenges.”

The room was still, with only the combined breathing of 300 space-program staffers to be heard. Someone dropped a laptop PC on the floor with a clatter. Bowman paused. “Can I answer just a couple of quick questions at this point?” he said. “We’ve only got three hours for this meeting today, and then I guess another science-data conference tomorrow, so I want to move along quickly if I may.”

A moment. “So we’re all gonna’ die, right?” one of the space-pilots shouted into the room, somewhat out-of-turn, a bit rowdy.

Bowman smiled broadly. “That’s about it, space cowboy,” he said with at least some good humor. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You’re a brave bunch and so am I, so take heart. We have six years to avoid that. But for the Mars Program, our base on Mars now starts to look like---dare I say it---our only hope for survival, or off-world human species survival, even in small numbers, if the Earth takes that kind of hit, and all those millions die in their pain and fears, I guess, and all the environmental stuff. Again, this would be like, at the level of sucking away Earth’s breathable atmosphere for about 1,000 years. Stuff like that. With the Mars-base now fully functional and life-support working to maintain 200 or so people as a sustainable facility, even on its own---control and ownership of the base, is now a very hot item among international Earth military and space-program forces. So, that’s our next topic. Let’s break now for 15-minutes, please.”

The conference-room lights flickered on again, and the group began to chatter. But now the melody of the voices, and the overall vibration, had turned to a different tune, at a lower key, as if a giant had struck a bell, indicating danger ahead.

Bowman nodded at Lynn Rodgers-Smith, and she looked down and away, somewhat grim, without a smile.

Cowan, Guy Reisling’s Second, stood from his seat and stretched. “So, uh---not boring, then, right?” he said.

“I guess not,” Guy answered .

--Julian Phillips
Oct. 19, 2009
OUTPOST
Tom Luong Films